Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) (6 page)

“Naomi, sweetie, calm down,” Vi called to her back. “It’s just an innocent . . .”

But she didn’t hear another word as she marched out the bakery’s front door and toward the diner looking for a certain cook’s ass to chew.

And his ass she found.

Eli was bent over beneath the sink in the kitchen with just his jean-clad rear end poking out, his black jockey underwear band showing above the low-riding waist. She stopped short and just looked her fill momentarily because, honestly, what red-blooded American woman wouldn’t?

Then, duty called as she remembered her reason for being there and irritation flooded her again.

She cleared her throat and this made him pop his head up quickly, obviously not expecting anyone. But he misjudged the countertop, slamming his head with a nasty smack.

“Seven hells!” he cursed as he flopped back on his haunches rubbing his head.

Naomi couldn’t help it, she laughed.

He shot her an aggravated, narrow gaze and scrambled to his feet.

They stared each other down for several seconds while he continued nursing what had to be a nice goose egg on his head. Finally, he spoke. “Can I help you?” Though he sounded anything but helpful.

“Actually, you can. You can stop this love advice nonsense. Especially when it comes to Vi.”

He quirked his brow, his expression pained, but he didn’t respond.

This just fueled her frustration. “Who do you think you are, anyway? She’s a lonely widow and her late husband was one of the best men I’ve ever known. This . . .” She waved her hand around aimlessly as tears sprung to her eyes. “. . . Whatever it is you’re doing, isn’t a game. You’re messing with people’s lives.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. I know.”

She blinked. “Then why are you doing it?”

He glanced down, his entire body posture seeming to shift inward. “They ask me. And I cannot turn them away. Believe me, I wish I could.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. Of course he could turn people away. And how could he even suppose to know what’s best for them anyway? But, in Vi’s case, his interference was up close and personal, and she could very well stand to lose her rock in life. To a man who wasn’t Paul.

Selfish, yes. Unreasonable, absolutely.

But, it didn’t change the fact that it was how she felt.

“Look, Eli, I have no idea what you mean. You can choose to not give out advice if you don’t want to. And, in the case of Vi and Sam, I really wish you would’ve.”

His deep, dark eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to cause you any more upset. I was only trying to help.”

She nodded, wondering why her stupid, traitorous body wanted to go all gooey just because he looked all
GQ
with his sweet, puppy eyes, stubble, and low-slung jeans. And his soft-spoken apology wasn’t helping matters, either. She glanced away. “I guess you probably thought you were.” She dared another glance into his eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

He offered her a sexy, lopsided grin. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, hoping she didn’t sound breathy.

Thankfully, they were interrupted as Scott and Maura came in the back door, little Emma in Scott’s arms. He put Emma down and she shuffled straight to Naomi.

“Hi, Miss Naomi. You got any cookies for me today?”

“I think I just might. Sugar or chocolate chip?”

“Chocolate chip.” Emma smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes and Naomi immediately noticed the dark rings and unusual lack of spunk.

She shot a glance to Maura. “Sure thing, little bit.”

Maura’s face was drawn and she held Scott’s hand like a lifeline.

“I’ll just go get that cookie,” Naomi said. She offered Eli a nod, letting him know their conversation was over, at least for now, then let herself out of the kitchen.

Maura followed her, leaving Emma with the guys. “Hey, Naomi, hold up a sec.”

Naomi spun around. “Maura. What’s wrong?”

Tears collected on Maura’s bottom lashes and she dabbed her eyes with a crumpled tissue in her fist. “We’re taking her in to the specialist tomorrow. The pediatrician thinks it might be a relapse.”

No. No. No.

Naomi’s heart bottomed out somewhere near her feet.

Chapter 7

The next day, Naomi gave up any pretense of working and waited at home by her cell phone for Maura to call. She’d promised to update her as soon as she had news from Emma’s specialist.

Vi, knowing how much she adored the little girl and Maura, ran a soothing hand down her hair and left to tend to the bakery without a word.

And that left her with a silent house, except for the relentlessly ticking clock on the wall, and her even more silent cell phone.

Why wasn’t Maura calling? And did that mean good or bad news?

Naomi rose to pace the living room wondering why she hadn’t just gone into work. At least that would’ve kept her hands and mind busy. Absently, she rubbed her arms, her fingers tracing the perfect skin of her right arm; the uneven, scarred, horribly imperfect skin of her left. She glanced down and stopped, tugging the three-quarter sleeve as far down as it would go. God, she hated when winter passed and it was just too hot to hide behind long sleeves.

The shrill ring of her cell startled her—why hadn’t she downloaded that cute ringtone?—and she jumped to answer. “Hello?”

“Naomi? It’s Maura.”

The hollowness in her friend’s voice made her falter. “Hey. How is Emma?”

“We’re at the children’s hospital now,” Maura said, choking back tears. “Can you come down here?”

She swallowed. “Sure. What’s . . .?”

There was a shuffle on the other end as voices spoke in hushed tones in the background. “I’m sorry, Naomi, I’ve gotta go. The doctor’s here. Just get here when you can, okay?”

Naomi mumbled her agreement then clicked off. It took her about thirty seconds to grab her keys and purse and get the heck outta Dodge.

When she reached the hospital, she sat in the parking lot for several minutes with her head on the steering wheel, afraid to go inside. Afraid of what the news would be, what she would see, how she would feel.

Mostly how she would feel.

She dashed away the tears that coursed down her cheeks as long buried memories flooded back, warring with the dreams of her heart. Harried nurses, fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, the stench of antiseptic. Being swallowed up in a hospital bed while adults whisked in and out of the room, never seeming to notice her existence. Never caring.

And the pain. Oh, God. The excruciating pain.

Debriding, scraping, ointments, wraps. No medication touched the pain. And only to do it again the next day. And the next.

And that’s when the foster homes started, which meant a whole new kind of pain.

“Damn it, Naomi, get a grip.” She lifted tear-filled eyes to the hospital entrance. She could do this. She
would
do this.

With a fortifying breath, she pulled herself together, got out of the car and headed in. When the doors whisked open, she was pleasantly surprised. There was no overpowering scent of sickness or cleaner, no harsh lighting, no frowning employees.

A two-story water wall gurgled gently in front of her and potted plants were tucked into every corner giving it a natural, welcoming feel.

She approached the information desk, where an older woman with a bright blue volunteer’s vest and an even brighter smile sat. “Hello. May I help you?”

Naomi felt some of the tension leaving her body and could smile in return. “Yes. I’m here to visit my friends. Maura and Emma Carlson?”

The volunteer typed some keys on a computer as a couple of nurses in pink scrubs walked briskly past. Naomi tracked them with her gaze, her heart automatically yearning.

“And who’s the patient?” the volunteer asked.

Naomi turned back from watching the nurses and shoved the pointless dream aside. “Um, Emma.”

“Sure, sweetie. You just head right over to the elevators there and go to the fourth floor. She’s in 433.”

Naomi thanked her and moved to the elevators. A family with a little boy in a wheelchair, his arms wrapped in bandages, followed her in. She swallowed and offered him a smile, empathizing with the pain he must be in. He surprised her by returning her smile with a toothless grin. His mother ran her fingers through the thick waves of his hair, the love in her eyes obvious.

Naomi breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor and she slipped past them to exit, their love an uncomfortable reminder of what she’d never had. Until Vi.

She followed the signs to Room 433 and knocked gently. At Maura’s soft beckon, she pressed the door open.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t expected cheery yellow walls with giraffe cut-outs and picture windows letting the sunshine pour in.

Guess not all children’s hospitals are cut from the same cloth.

She forced a tight smile and entered as Maura rose from the chair next to Emma’s bed. “I’m glad you’re here,” her friend whispered, the fatigue showing in the black smudges under her eyes.

She gripped her hand. “Of course. How’s Emma? What’s going on?”

Maura glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emma was still sleeping then shuttled her out into the hallway. Her friend sagged against the wall, holding herself together long enough for a nurses’ aide and a couple of doctors to pass by before she let herself fall apart. Tears began to fall unheeded down her cheeks as sobs wracked her body.

Naomi automatically wrapped her arms around her friend. “Oh, Maura, it’ll be all right.”

A page for respiratory therapy crackled overhead, seeming to bring Maura back to herself. She stepped back and wiped her eyes with a watery half-smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

They stood in silence for several moments, holding hands as Maura’s tears dried. “So,” Naomi finally asked, “is it a relapse?”

Maura glanced over. “They’re really not sure at this point. Her blood work is all screwy. None of it makes sense.” She swallowed as more tears threatened. “All they can tell me is my baby is very, very sick and I might lose her this time.”

Oh, no.
Naomi sucked in a breath as her chest suddenly felt hollow. She gazed over her shoulder through the small window on the closed door of Emma’s room. How could such an unfair thing happen to someone so tiny? So innocent?

“Is there anything I can do?”

Maura shrugged and straightened away from the wall. “Not unless you’ve got a whole ton of money hidden away that I can borrow, or maybe the winning lotto numbers?”

Naomi furrowed her brow. She hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “This hospital visit is going to cost me a small fortune and I don’t have any idea how I’m going to come up with that kind of money.”

“What about insurance?”

“Ah, yes, insurance. Well, just this morning they informed me that Emma’s fine, upstanding father, who was supposed to be covering his daughter, hasn’t paid his premiums for the past several months. And I wouldn’t even know how to reach him even if he had, since he apparently moved and changed his number without notifying anyone.” She sobbed quietly into her tissue. “He’s probably on the run again. So besides being a deadbeat dad, my baby doesn’t have any insurance and I’m screwed.”

Holy crap!

“And,” Maura continued, “Scott even offered to marry me so he could cover Emma on his insurance, but I couldn’t let him do that for us. As sweet as it is.”

Double holy crap!

“Oh, Maura, surely the hospital will work with you once you explain.”

They both glanced back as Emma started to move in the bed like she was rousing. “I guess they’ll have to. Though I’ll probably be paying the bill for the rest of my natural life.”

Naomi left the hospital after visiting with Emma for a few minutes, heartbroken to see the little spitfire struggling to keep her eyes open as her body fought whatever was attacking it.

Watching the nurses bustling around doing their work was also disheartening, knowing she had the capability to do it, too, but had laid that part of her life aside. A wasted dream.

She shoved the self-pitying thoughts aside and made her way back to the bakery to see what work she could do and to give Vi an update. She had nothing else to do with her day and she knew Vi would be worried.

But as she turned onto the street in front of the bakery, she frowned at all the cars taking every available parking spot. People were milling in front of the diner and the door to the bakery was propped open as Vi stood outside chatting with all the folks. What was going on?

Naomi circled the block, parked just down from Delaney’s, and jumped out of her car. She waited for traffic to pass then ran across the street and made her way to the bakery to find Vi. “Hey.” She smiled curiously at the people all around.

“Oh, sweetie! How’s Emma? We’re all just dying to know.”

Naomi took in the eager faces that all awaited her answer. She glanced over at the diner’s window, which had changed its window dressing from football team support to ‘Get Well, Emma! We Love You!’

Whoa. This was a vigil of sorts for Maura and Emma. She’d lived in this town since she was a kid and the sense of community still surprised her sometimes.

She turned back to Vi and smiled. “Not good. Weak. The doctors are still trying to figure out what’s wrong with her.”

“So, it’s not her leukemia?”

She shrugged. “They just don’t know yet.”

“Well, I’m sure she was glad you were there. Friends are important.”

“Yeah . . .” But the rest of her reply was lost as the diner door opened and Sharla stepped out, followed by Michael and Eli.

Eli locked eyes with her as the three of them headed toward her and something inside of her fluttered. Damn it, he was just as hot as she remembered, especially without batter all over him.

And especially with those chocolate-colored eyes which were deep, and yet held a haunted mystery as if they had a story all their own.

A story she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of.

He offered her an enigmatic smile just as Sharla rushed up, big Michael taking up the rear of the threesome.

“Oh, we’ve been so worried!” Sharla exclaimed. “Maura’s not answering her phone. How’s Little Bit doing?”

Carefully avoiding Eli’s penetrating gaze, Naomi recounted the doctor’s report, or lack thereof, really.

“Oh, poor dear,” Sharla said, raising a hand to her lips. “How awful. Is there anything we can do to help? Anything at all?”

Naomi let her eyes briefly slide past Eli and Michael then back to Sharla as her heart sank with the sad realization that so much was out of their control. “Just pray.”

A deep voice sounded behind Sharla. “Of course.”

They all started and faced Eli at his solemn words. He stared Naomi square in the eye. “And you’re absolutely sure there is nothing more they need?”

“Uh, well . . .” He needed to quit staring at her like that. She couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“Well, what?” he prompted. “Anything.” And he obviously meant it.

She glanced around. Sharla, Vi, and Michael had gathered around them to hear. She swallowed and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Not unless you have a whole lotta cash stashed away somewhere.”

Eli glanced down, his shoulders slumping like he was crestfallen. “Oh.”

Michael tilted his head, his fingers pinching his chin, as if in deep thought.

Sharla sucked in a startled breath.

Vi gripped her arm. “Why? Doesn’t she have insurance?”

Naomi gave a brief account of Maura’s situation, hoping her friend wouldn’t mind if she kept the details unemotional and to-the-point. She also kept Scott’s marriage proposal to herself. “So,” she said, wrapping it up, “Emma has no insurance coverage and Maura has no money to pay the bill, which is sure to be astronomical. I wish I could help.”

“As do I.” Eli spoke softly as he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

Seriously. Who raised this man? ‘As do I?’ He sounded like he was from another time and place. And gazing into his eyes, it was easy to believe another realm altogether.

Michael stepped forward. “Maybe you can.”

Collectively, they all turned toward him. He’d been silent this whole time, it was easy to forget he was there. Well, maybe for some.

“How?” Vi asked.

Michael smiled and peered from face to face, spending a few moments longer on Eli then Naomi. “Well, what if we organized some sort of a community festival to benefit Emma? You know, games, a raffle, maybe a dunking booth. Food.” He regarded Vi meaningfully. “Baked goods.”

“You know little Emma would
love
that!” Sharla said.

“It might work,” Vi said at the same time.

Michael’s grin became infectious as excitement began to build in the circle. Naomi felt her lips turn upward as well. A festival was a pretty brilliant idea, better than a lame donation box that people would probably ignore.

Then Michael’s gaze stopped on her. “I think you and Eli should work together to spearhead the project.”

Oh.

Hell.

No.